THE MURDER OF CROWS

Black feathers fell from the skies the ground cracked under the weight of the blood-soaked plumes but shoulders only shrugged the feathers were from crows – No one cries for carrion feeders who have neither charm nor song but incantations of dark omens. Shoulders shrugged as dark feathers rained – the skies are blue againContinue reading “THE MURDER OF CROWS”

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